Background

Monday, September 30, 2013

The other day Mrs. Chatterbox made
spaghetti. I like spaghetti well enough but this spaghetti was different. It
was—incredible, so good that after a few mouthfuls I could barely concentrate
on what I was eating. I finally set down my fork and said, “What’s different
about this spaghetti?”

You won't believe what made this spaghetti so incredible. Read about it (here).

Friday, September 27, 2013

Whenever I recallan instance
where someone was able to think quickly on their feet I remember a situation I
experienced years ago while sitting on a bench in front of the British Museum
in London. There, I witnessed an act of pure genius. Read about it (here).

Wednesday, September 25, 2013

On Monday Mrs. Chatterbox’s car was in the
shopso I drove her to work. She’s employed by the police department in our
town and across the street from where she works is an outdoor mall. Later that
day I arrived too early to pick her up for the drive home so I ambled across
the street to kill time. As it happened, while wandering through the shops I
received a call from nature and followed signs to a public restroom in a
far-off corner of the mall’s courtyard. I was about to have a most unpleasant close encounter. Read about it (here).

Monday, September 23, 2013

How does a woman become immortal in the
eyes of a sensitive eight year old boy, so much so that fifty years later he
still carries her around in a special corner of his heart? In my case it
involved, in addition to a woman, a guppy. Read about it (here.)

Sunday, September 22, 2013

Northern Italy is blessed with an
abundance of beautiful lakes, Lake Como being the most famous, although in my
opinion others are equally beautiful, such as Lake Maggiore. But it was the sight of something erected on the shores of this lake that really put a lump in my throat. Check it out (here.)

Friday, September 20, 2013

This will sound incriminating, just as it
did back when I was sixteen, but honest to God I had nothing to do with it.
Even if I had, I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to leave such incriminating evidence.
Of course there were those who will always believe I was involved, but I
wasn’t. Read about it (here.)

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Two special shout outs this
morning. First, thanks to Hilary at The Smitten Image for singling out my story
A Home for the Swifts. It’s always an
honor to see my name in her Posts of the Week feature. Check out Hilary’s blog
to enjoy amazing photography and the other great posts selected this week.

Second, I’ve once again been
invited to submit a story to Retirement and Good Living. I’m told my last contribution, An Elixir
for Retirement, was one of their most viewed
articles. I hope you’ll check out Buffaloed and leave a comment at Retirement and Good Living so these nice folks will invite
me back. Just follow the link: http://retirementandgoodliving.com/buffaloed/

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

When our son was small he loved
going to the zoo. Back then, the Portland Zoo was well known for its elephant
breeding program but not much else. Every year we would walk past enclosures
with sleepy bears, molting predatory birds and disinterested zebras. But one
time was different. Read about it (here).

Friday, September 13, 2013

A news story this week received very
little attention. The Voyager-1 spacecraft, launched in 1977 to study the outer
planets, has officially exited our solar system. It is now so far away that it
takes 17 hours for a radio signal from Voyager to reach receivers here on
Earth. To mark this occasion I’m repeating my post from January 2012. Check it out (here.)

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

In the early 1980s Mrs C. and I
weren’t the only ones looking for a new home in Portland Oregon. Winging up
from Central America for a feast of flying insects, a cigar-shaped Vaux Swift
was desperately seeking a new late summer home. The hollow tree serving as a
roost for generations had been toppled by a recent storm. With thousands of
hungry swifts soon to arrive, this scout must have been desperate to find an
alternative roosting site.Where they chose to live might surprise you. Read about it (here.)

Monday, September 9, 2013

In the mid 70s the retail company I worked for transferred me from San
Francisco to Oxnard, California, fifty miles north of LA. Oxnard had a rough
and tumble reputation, and as a newlywed I was concerned about bringing Mrs. C.
there. When I expressed concern my boss put an arm on my shoulder and tried to
calm me with, “You like Mexican food, don’t you?”

I did like Mexican food, but was I willing to risk our lives for it? Read about it (here.)

Friday, September 6, 2013

Mrs. Chatterbox and I lived from paycheck to paycheck for several years
after relocating to Portland, Oregon. Good fortune came our way one summer when
Mrs. C. won the raffle at her company’s annual picnic—an all expense paid
vacation to the Sunriver Resort in Central Oregon. We flew on a private plane
to a small landing strip outside of Bend. When we landed it was evening; the
setting sun was tipping the distant mountains purple and a large owl skirted a
nearby meadow, hunting for dinner. We piled our luggage into a waiting rental
car and headed for the resort.

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

For me, summer is a time for reflection,
the season most loaded with memories of people and events gone by, seemingly
endless carefree days of tree climbing and reading books from the bookmobile
parked a few blocks from our house. I remember the hot stickiness of an era
before air conditioning, water balloon fights to cool off, gorging on cold
water from garden hoses, brushing away buzzing flies as hot dogs and hamburgers
sizzled over briquettes with watermelon somewhere on ice. It seems only yesterday
that I’d lie on the grass as the night sky deepened from violet to indigo,
staring at stars that looked infinite yet close enough to swirl with my
finger.

Monday, September 2, 2013

There comes a time when many men
confront their worst fear: not that they’re mortal and not likely to achieve
the life goals they’ve set, but the realization that their hair is making a
pilgrimage to the shower drain. I was shocked when I noticed my comb was
harboring more strands than usual, and horrified when I pulled a goopy wad from
the shower drain.

Some men will do anything to hold onto their hair. Read about it here.